


quietly

by hqten



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, College AU, Library AU, M/M, Mutual Pining, OmiHina, Pining, background bokuatsu, suna is a little shit but he gets a free pass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29090907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hqten/pseuds/hqten
Summary: Sakusa brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed the skin, as if to cleanse his thoughts. He didn’t need to be thinking about Shoyo right now.He thought about Shoyo anyway.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	quietly

**Author's Note:**

> one of my instagram followers introduced me to omihina and i never looked back; the power they have ;-; i love them so much.

Libraries were supposed to be quiet.

That was their purpose. Libraries were supposed to be quiet so that Sakusa Kiyoomi could get some studying done, and maybe not fall behind in class right at the beginning of his second year of college.

Libraries were a safe space, free from the endless clamour produced by the other students, particularly the ones that played some sort of sport, like volleyball. None of them would ever intrude into  _ his _ area; they were too preoccupied in the college gym, making another muscle even larger than was necessary.

Sakusa scoffed internally as he remembered how just a few years ago, he had been one of those volleyball crazy idiots. If it had not been for a wrist injury in his first year of high school, he might still have been playing to this day. In a way, that injury was a blessing. Volleyball had been a distraction; now he could wholly focus on his studies, without any added interference.

Except that there was currently a distraction, in the form of someone entering the library. Not only did they open the door with enough vigour to make it slam back shut, they were also singing to themself, disrupting the perfect silence from before.

Sakusa set his textbook down to get a better look at them. They were short, much shorter than average, with orange hair that stuck up in untamed tufts. Even though it was early september, they were dressed in just a tank top and denim shorts that barely made it halfway down their thighs.

They met Sakusa’s eyes, bringing up their hand in a greeting. Sakusa glared and put a finger to his lips to indicate that they should make less noise. They gave an apologetic smile and continued into the library.

Sakusa continued working, making notes on his current topic of aeronautics. He found it fairly interesting; not enough that he was passionate, but rather that he could see himself studying this until he retired.

Inevitably he was disturbed again, this time by the same person as before. They had sat at a desk only three spaces away from Sakusa, and were unloading the contents of their school bag with as much sound as humanly possible.

“Oi,” Sakusa whisper-called.

They jerked their head around,

“Yeah?”

“Be quiet.”

“I didn’t say anything?”

This conversation had already gone on longer than Sakusa was expecting.

“You’re making noise with your bag.”

“Oh. Sorry.” they stared for a second, before flashing another bright smile and leaning over with a hand outstretched. “I'm Shoyo.”

“And you’re invading my personal space.”

They moved back.

“What’s your name?”

“Sakusa.”

“That’s so cool!” Shoyo gushed. “Is that your family name? Or-”

“Sakusa.”

“Oh. Okay.” Unfazed, Shoyo continued to speak. “It’s nice to have made a friend. This is my first year, you see-”

“We’re not friends.”

“-So it’s nice that I've already met someone.”

“Hm.”

“Whatcha studying?”

Sakusa sighed. This was the most he’d spoken to anyone in a while, and it was already becoming tiring. Nevertheless, he answered.

“Aeronautics.”

“Ooh! Is that fun?”

“More or less.”

“I'm studying sports!”

“How surprising.”

“You look kinda athletic.” Shoyo was scrutinizing him so intensely that Sakusa felt exposed. “Do you play a sport?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“We’re friends! Of course I'm gonna ask you questions.”

Sakusa opened his mouth to tell Shoyo that they were not friends. He closed it instead, realising that contradicting anything would only prolong this exchange.

“I don’t play a sport.”

“Why not? You look like you’d be good at volleyball.”

He winced internally.

“I don’t like volleyball.”

“Have you tried it? I could teach you, I'm on the team here!”

“That won’t be necessary.” Sakusa closed his textbook and slipped it into his bag, ready to leave the library. He could continue studying in his dorm room.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. See you around!” Shoyo gave an enthusiastic wave which Sakusa ignored.

  
  


Sakusa had barely put the key inside the lock when his room door opened from the inside. 

“Suna.”

Leaning on the doorframe was Suna Rintarou, another second year who managed to get under Sakusa’s skin in a way that no one else could.

He was also dating Sakusa’s roommate.

“Hey, Kiyoomi.” Osamu had appeared behind Suna. “I thought you were spending the afternoon in the library?”

“That was my intention.”

“You’re back pretty early,” Osamu noted.

“I changed my mind.”

“Are you seriously planning on spending the whole semester cooped up inside?” this was Suna, his voice as monotone as ever.

“It’s beneficial.”

“It’s lame, that’s what it is.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“He’s right, though.” Osamu had joined in. “You need to live a little! Go for a run. Make a friend.”

“Actually-” Sakusa glowered at both of them in turn. “-i made a friend earlier.”

“Really?” Osamu was smirking. “A new librarian? Or one of the professors?”

“It was probably one of the plants they keep in the cafeteria.” Suna interrupted before Sakusa could speak.

“His name is Shoyo.”

“Hinata Shoyo?” Osamu asked, his forehead wrinkling in thought. “Small? Orange hair?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Atsumu’s told me about him.”

Sakusa’s face darkened at the mention of Miya Atsumu, who he had been unfortunate enough to share a room with last year. He was, without a doubt, the worst roommate imaginable. He left dishes in the sink, crumbs on the sofa and a ringing in Sakusa’s ears with his constant need to yell. He was also the reason for many sleepless nights, caused by always calling his partner at odd hours of the night. It had become so bad that Sakusa swore if he heard one more ‘ _ Bokkun’ _ , he would smother Atsumu with a pillow.

This year was only marginally better; while Osamu wasn’t as exasperating as his twin brother, he was always surrounded by Suna rintarou, who made up for Atsumu’s absence with snarky remarks and an everlasting smug smile. 

“How does Atsumu know him?” if Shoyo was a friend of Atsumu, then he had been right in his assumption that Shoyo was as obnoxious as he seemed.

“Volleyball,” Osamu explained. “Apparently he’s really good at it. What did you think of him?” the last question was directed towards Suna, who was also on the volleyball team, despite only attending half of the practices.

Suna shrugged.

“I didn’t really pay attention to him during the team introductions. And I skipped practice yesterday.”

“You’re gonna get kicked off if you keep missing it.”

“It was just one practice.”

“Rin-”

“Can you move out of the way so I can come in?” Sakusa estimated that he had now been on the doorstep for three minutes, which was two minutes and fifty eight seconds longer than needed. Suna stepped aside, muttering something under his breath that Sakusa didn’t catch but was still annoyed by.

“Anyway, at least Kiyoomi made some sort of friend.” Osamu's optimism caused Sakusa to internally roll his eyes, and when he was out of their sight, he rolled them outwardly as well.

He and Shoyo were not friends.

  
  


The following day, Sakusa attended his morning class as usual. However, instead of collating his notes in the library, he decided to instead try and study in his dorm room. Last year, that had been impossible due to the very existence of Miya Atsumu, but maybe this time it would be different.

He sat at their kitchen table and was about to start working when the door was opened. Osamu entered, bleary eyed and in a shirt that looked like it hadn’t been washed for a while.

“Morning, Kiyoomi.”

“It’s one pm.”

“Afternoon, Kiyoomi.”

“Don’t you have classes to go to?”

Osamu yawned.

“Culinary classes are always in the afternoons so that we have time to eat proper.” he cracked a smile. “Can’t use your brain on an empty stomach, can you?”

Sakusa hummed. He had been planning on studying in complete silence, but hadn’t accounted for the fact that Osamu would still be here. He did his best to drown out the sound of Osamu opening and closing the kitchen drawers as he started to cook.

Eventually, he could no longer ignore it.

“Can you do that quietly?”

Osamu blinked.

“I'm cooking.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“No.” Osamu momentarily paused, squinting at Sakusa. “Cooking is an art. There’s obviously gonna be a lot of noise, that’s how it works.” as if on cue, the kettle started to screech. “Why aren’t you in the library? That’s where you always are.”

“I don’t want to be in the library today.” Sakusa spoke through gritted teeth.

“I thought you made a friend there? Or is one friend already too much for you?”

“That’s not-”

“You know, Atsumu offered to help you with your social skills. I could give him a call if you want?”

Sakusa almost growled as he pushed his chair backwards.

“No, thank you.”

“I'm heading to rin’s tonight, so you’ll have to make dinner for yourself,” Osamu called as Sakusa headed towards the door. “Think you can manage?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? You managed to burn instant noodles the other day-”

“I'll figure it out.”

“If you say so. Bye.”

  
  


Sakusa sat in the very back of the college library, hidden by so many bookshelves that no one would see him unless they walked all the way through. And even then, he was sitting in a way that it was obvious he did not wish to be talked to. His jacket hood was pulled over his head, and there was a freshly printed ‘do not disturb’ sign on his desk.

He had been steadily working for fifteen minutes when someone cleared their throat. He glanced up to see Shoyo, the person from yesterday, standing at a safe distance of five metres.

“Sakusa-san?”

Maybe if Sakusa stayed still enough, Shoyo would think he was a statue and leave. Or should he pretend that he was someone else? What were the chances of there being  _ two _ students with dark hair and moles, both of whom frequented the library?

“Sakusa-san? Can you help me?”

He sighed, slipping his bookmark into the textbook.

“What is it?”

Shoyo scratched the back of his head.

“Well, you see, there’s this book-”

“I don’t work here.”

“I know! But there’s a book I need, and it’s on the top shelf, and...” Shoyo let out an awkward laugh. “I can’t reach it.”

“Find a ladder.”

“Can you get it for me?” 

Sakusa was starting to regret coming down to the library. Even the incessant sound of Osamu’s kitchen would be better than this, being compelled to act out of the kindness of his own heart and do a good deed.

“Fine.” he stood up sharply, following Shoyo to one of the bookshelves. “Couldn’t you have asked anyone else?”

“There’s not really anyone else here.” looking around, Sakusa saw that it was true. Apart from someone slumped over a table in the fiction section, he and Shoyo were the only people.

Shoyo pointed to the book that he wanted and Sakusa begrudgingly reached to bring it down, dropping it into his arms.

“You’re welcome,” he said before Shoyo could thank him.

To his surprise, Shoyo followed him back to where he had been sitting, and took a seat only two spaces away.

“Are you following me?”

“We’re friends, right? We should sit together!”

“Fine.” Sakusa forced the words out. “You can sit there. As long as you’re quiet.”

Aside from the occasional rustling of paper, Shoyo managed that.

for all of four minutes.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” his voice was so bright that Sakusa felt he should be wearing sunglasses over his ears, even though that made no sense.

“Being somewhere quieter.”

“Oh. Do you like those sort of places?”

“I do.”

“Oh. That’s cool! I don’t really mind louder noises.” Shoyo grinned as he spoke.

“I see.”

“So where are you gonna go?”

Sakusa figured that quickly answering Shoyo’s questions was the best way to end this conversation.

“Back to my room.”

“Is it quiet there?”

“Hopefully.”

“What’s your new roommate like? Or are they the same as last year?”

“This is my first year sharing with them.” Sakusa paused to contemplate. “They’re reasonable. They’re a good cook.”

“Are you a good cook?”

Sakusa almost blushed.

“Food is subjective-”

“I am! I'm not a chef or anything, but I think I can cook pretty well!” Shoyo beamed.

“Interesting.”

“You said you’re free tonight, right? We could cook together!”

Sakusa was about to politely decline Shoyo’s invitation, but when he saw the hope shining in his eyes, he knew he would have felt bad.

“Fine.”

“Really? Your kitchen or mine?”

“Mine,” Sakusa answered firmly. If anything, he could be sure that his place was clean. Despite his other flaws, Osamu was just as uptight as Sakusa was about maintaining cleanliness in the kitchen.

“Okay! Tell me when you’re done with your work so we can go.”

He sounded so eager that Sakusa wanted to reach over and ruffle his hair.

“Okay.”

  
  


Shoyo was a surprisingly good cook. He wasn’t as good as Osamu, but then again, no one was. After an hour of Shoyo dancing around the kitchen and Sakusa fighting a losing battle with a tin opener, they had worked together to produce a soup which Sakusa assumed was tomato flavoured, based on the fact that they had used tomatoes.

“Do you want a taste?” Shoyo was standing on a stool, leaning over the soup with the wooden spoon brought to his lips.

“Not if it’s the same spoon that you’ve licked.”

Shoyo laughed and stepped back so Sakusa could get past. Sakusa pulled a new spoon out of one of the drawers, closed it, and stuck it into the soup, lifting it to his mouth as Shoyo watched in anticipation.

“Is it good?”

“It’s palatable.” when Shoyo looked confused, he clarified. “It tastes nice.”

Shoyo cheered, and in spite of his immense dislike of noise, Sakusa didn’t mind it much.

There was an abrupt knock on the apartment door and Sakusa made his way across the room to open it, thinking that it would be Osamu forgetting his key, as had happened in the past. He was ready with a snide comment about Osamu’s tendencies to leave his key inside, but it disappeared from his tongue the moment he saw who was there.

“Omi-omi!”

Sakusa cursed his slow reflexes; he had instinctively tried to slam the door shut but Miya Atsumu had already stepped inside, surveying the room.

“Get out.”

“I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

Sakusa shrugged off Atsumu’s attempt at a hug.

“Miya. You have no reason to be here.”

“I was looking for ‘samu.”

“He’s not-”

“Atsumu-san?” a voice from the kitchen cut Sakusa off, and he looked back to see Shoyo had appeared with a bright smile, brighter than the one he had been wearing in the library. Sakusa frowned.

“Shoyo-kun? What are you doing at Omi’s place?” Atsumu engulfed Shoyo in a hug, both of them pressed against each other and laughing.

“We’re friends! So I'm teaching him how to cook.”

“Friends?” Atsumu clutched his chest, mock disbelief displayed on his face. “Kiyoomi’s friend? I must say, Shoyo-kun, I feel betrayed.”

“I'm still your friend, idiot.” Shoyo giggled, a sound which should have been nauseating, but instead made Sakusa feel something which he wasn’t quite sure how to name.

“You can leave now, Miya,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Osamu is with Suna.”

“Wait, wait, I'm still saying hi to my best friend.”

Did Atsumu put extra emphasis on  _ my _ , or was it Sakusa’s imagination?

“He’s my friend as well. And besides, this is my room.”

“Shoyo’s been my friend for years! He’d choose me over you, any day.” Atsumu stuck his tongue out. “Wouldn’t ya?”

Shoyo poked Atsumu in the ribs.

“I'd choose both of you.”

“Well yeah, but you’d choose me first. Because I've known you for longer, so we’re closer.”

Sakusa wanted Shoyo to dispute Atsumu’s statement, and claim that he and Sakusa were friends, that they were close friends, that he preferred Sakusa over Atsumu.

He didn’t.

“You’re both cool!” was all Shoyo said as he wriggled out of Atsumu’s grasp. “We made soup! Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Sure!” Atsumu agreed before Sakusa could point out that  _ technically  _ Shoyo didn’t have the right to ask anyone to stay for dinner.

Maybe he was jealous of how close Shoyo and Atsumu were. Maybe.

  
  


“Sakusa-san?”

Sakusa lifted his head up from where he had pressed it against his textbook as if it would somehow tattoo the words into his mind. He blinked and turned to face Shoyo, who this afternoon was merely one seat away.

“Sakusa-san? Are you alright?”

“I'm tired,” he muttered.

“Did you not sleep well?”

No, Sakusa had not slept well. Last night, Atsumu and Shoyo had only spoken about volleyball, a topic which Sakusa couldn’t exactly join in on. So he had stayed silent as they talked, hearing Shoyo laugh and seeing Shoyo smile and knowing that he wasn’t the reason for it.

Afterwards, they had left his room, planning to practice something volleyball related. Atsumu slung an arm around Shoyo’s shoulder as they exited, whispering something into his ear. Shoyo had glanced back, met Sakusa’s eyes, and smirked ever so slightly as he waved goodbye.

That night, he lay awake for a while, staring at the ceiling and thinking. Thinking about Shoyo.

He liked him. In the same way that he liked cleanliness, that Osamu liked food, that Atsumu liked irritating everyone in a one hundred metre radius. He  _ liked _ Shoyo. He wanted to get to know him better, spend time with him, hear his voice.

Was it love? No. Maybe. It was too early to say, so Sakusa had pushed that thought away. He wasn’t in love with Shoyo.

He and Shoyo were friends.

“I slept fine,” he answered.

“Are you sure? You have circles under your eyes.” Shoyo stretched out a finger and brushed it against Sakusa’s cheek, his eyes filled with a concern so endearing that Sakusa felt guilty.

“Don’t worry about me.”

Shoyo pulled his hand back and Sakusa’s skin felt oddly cold. Maybe he would have to start wearing a warmer shirt.

Speaking of clothes, Shoyo was once again dressed lightly, in a sleeveless hoodie and another pair of distractingly short shorts. Sakusa looked away.

He continued to work. It took a conscious effort to keep his focus on that and not on Shoyo, who had brought his knees to his chin and was biting on his lower lip as he read whatever it was he was studying.

Shoyo was cute. Sakusa hated that word, it was too reminiscent of his younger years in which relatives he didn’t know would pinch his cheeks and pat his head and call him pet names he didn’t like. But it fit Shoyo. Shoyo was unequivocally, irrefutably cute.

Sakusa brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed the skin, as if to cleanse his thoughts. He didn’t need to be thinking about Shoyo right now.

He thought about Shoyo anyway, peeking through his fingers to discreetly stare at him and his soft hair that fell over his forehead in a way that  _ begged _ for Sakusa to swipe it back into place. He stared at Shoyo’s mouth, which was slightly open in concentration, and his eyes, wide and yet focused, a pool of amber in which Sakusa found himself drowning.

Before he knew it, it was four pm and time for him to leave. He and Shoyo stood up at the same time and walked to the exit together, Shoyo holding the door ajar. Sakusa started through it but stopped, wondering how to best say goodbye.

“Are you waiting for a hug?” Shoyo teased.

“Of course not.” Sakusa hesitated, before turning around. “But you can hug me. I'd like that.”

Shoyo smiled warmly and skipped up to Sakusa, resting his head against his chest. His arms were snug around Sakusa’s waist and Sakusa’s hands naturally fell to hold Shoyo’s back. When they released each other, it felt like there was a void where Shoyo had been.

“Bye, Sakusa-san!”

“Omi.”

“What?”

Something that felt vaguely similar to a smile worked its way onto Sakusa’s face.

“My friends call me Kiyoomi.”

“Ooh! Bye, Omi!”

Libraries were supposed to be quiet, but the sound of Sakusa’s heart beating against his ribs was deafening in his ears.

  
  


Sakusa called Atsumu later that night. After half an hour of pacing up and down the hallway, and another half an hour of deliberation, he’d unblocked Atsumu’s number and dialled it, resisting the immediate urge to hang up.

“Omi-omi?”

“Shoyo.”

“Nah, this is ‘Tsumu.”

“I wanted to ask you about him.” 

“Why? If you want to talk to him, he’s just over there-”

“You’re with him?”

“Yeah. Volleyball practice.”

“Oh.” Sakusa tried to not feel left out. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you about him. Discreetly.” He stressed the last word, hoping that maybe Atsumu would lower his voice.

Sakusa swore he could hear Atsumu smirk through the phone.

“You’ve come to the right person, then. Seeing as he’s my best friend-”

“Is he single?”

There was a pause as Atsumu thought.

“I think so. He’s never told me about a partner.”

“Hm. Is he gay?”

“Wait, Omi, do you like him?”

“Is he gay?”

“Gimme a second. Shoyo-kun?!” Even through the phone, Atsumu’s voice was blasting. “Whaddya think about men?”

“What the fuck?”

Atsumu laughed.

“He put his thumbs up. I'd say you’ve got a chance.”

“Does he ever talk about me?” Sakusa was aware that he sounded desperate, but he could worry about that later.

“All the time. He says you’re annoying and that he hates your guts.”

“Miya.”

“Fine, fine, I'll be honest. He’s completely in love with you. He told me that he has a shrine in his bedroom filled with pictures of you and a wax figurine of your head.”

“ _ Miya _ .”

“God, you’re such a sap.” Atsumu laughed again and Sakusa contemplated snapping his phone into two. “I don’t really know. He says you’re a cool guy. But his standards of cool are pretty low.”

“That’s not at all helpful.”

“What do ya want me to say?”

“Something useful.”

Atsumu sighed dramatically.

“Well, we’re having a practice game tomorrow night, because it’s Saturday. You could come to that? Watch him play? Offer your hand in marriage?”

Sakusa grit his teeth. Attending a sports match where it would be both loud and crowded was not very high on his list of desires. 

“What time?”

“Wait, you’ll be there? Are you feeling alright?”

“What time?”

“Five pm. I can’t believe that you’re finally coming to watch me play, after months of insisting you hate volleyball.”

“I'm not coming to watch you.”

“Whatever. See you tomorrow, Omi!”

“Please never contact me again.”

“But you called me first?”

Sakusa ended the call.

  
  


It was Saturday, and it was three minutes to five pm, which meant that Shoyo’s match would be beginning soon.

Sakusa took a seat in the front row of the stands, prepared to sacrifice both his eardrums and personal space if it meant that Shoyo would see him. No, that wasn’t it. He just wanted a better view.

The players came onto the court, Shoyo, Atsumu, Suna, and more that Sakusa didn’t recognise and doubted he would ever see again. He leant forward in his seat and considered waving to attract Shoyo’s attention, but dismissed this idea on the basis that other people might see him as well.

The game started. For a second, Sakusa longed to be back on the court, receiving the other teams serves, hitting Atsumu’s sets and simply being close to Shoyo. For the first time, he started to regret the fact that he had to quit.

That wasn’t right. He didn’t have to quit. If he’d taken the proper steps, he could have still played after his injury. He could have regained the strength in his wrist. He could be there. He could be one of those volleyball crazy idiots.

He could be playing alongside Shoyo.

But there was no use dwelling on what could have been. Sakusa had made his choice. 

His heart hurt, but seeing Shoyo play somehow soothed the pain.

Shoyo’s team won the game. Atsumu scored the final point with a setter dump and in spite of his overall dislike of the man, Sakusa grudgingly admitted that Atsumu was skilled.

As if he heard his thoughts, Atsumu glanced up and spotted Sakusa, his mouth transforming into a condescending smirk.

“Omi-kun!” 

It seemed like every single person present at the match had turned their head to look at Sakusa. He could feel their eyes boring into him, like a spotlight was being shone directly on to him. His skin began to crawl under their gaze. God, he hated being seen.

“Kiyoomi?”

A voice dispelled Sakusa’s thoughts. He blinked.

“Kiyoomi? You came?”

It was Shoyo, staring up at him with a face full of surprise and eagerness, and a smile so stunning that everyone else around faded into a shadow.

“I came,” Sakusa said, in a voice so low that there was no way Shoyo could have heard him. But either Shoyo was a lip reader, or he didn’t care what was said, because he squealed anyway.

“Come down here! I wanna talk to you!”

Sakusa nodded, stood up, and made his way to the court.

  
  


Once Shoyo’s team had finished shaking hands with the other side, and the spectators had applauded, Shoyo came straight up to Sakusa, followed by Atsumu.

“Did you see me? Did you see me play?” Shoyo asked, his face dripping with sweat. Normally, that would have made Sakusa wrinkle his nose, but on Shoyo, it provided a sheen that made the whole world a little brighter.

“I saw you.”

“Was I good?”

“You were radiating.”

Atsumu, who had decided that this moment was the best time to join their conversation, scoffed.

“Kiyoomi likes to use fancy words to impress his lovers.”

“His lovers?”

Atsumu ignored the hate-filled glare Sakusa was sending him and whispered loud enough that Sakusa could hear.

“Kiyoomi is in love with you. He told me himself.”

“Liar,” Sakusa spat.

“Okay, maybe he didn’t exactly tell me, but I used my super detective skills to infer the knowledge.”

“Really?” Shoyo’s mouth hung open in something resembling shock. He tilted his head to face Sakusa. “You love me?”

“I- I-” Sakusa stumbled over his words. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

“That’s Kiyomese for I wanna marry you,” Atsumu interjected.

“Kiyomese?” Shoyo repeated, confusion etched on his face. “I thought you spoke japanese?”

“Or maybe it’s Sakusaish. Anyway, what Omi’s trying to say is that you make him really happy and I think he could make you happy as well, and I'm tired of you both whining to me about how infatuated you are.”

“Miya.”

“What?” Atsumu crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm right, and ya know it.”

“You like me too?” Shoyo finally spoke, his voice uncharacteristically shy. “As in, like-”

“Yes.”

Atsumu clutched at his hair.

“For crying out loud! Yer both in love! Confess! Kiss! Thank me for being the best wingman you didn’t ask for!”

“I love you.” Sakusa rushed the words out before they could stick in his throat.

Atsumu shoved Shoyo towards Sakusa.

“Now you gotta say it back to him.”

“I will, I will,” he grumbled. “I was just-” he broke off, stood on his tiptoes and placed the most delicate of kisses on Sakusa’s cheek, a muted sentence, a whispered confession.

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah! I did.”

It was quiet after that. Not the suffocating quiet of the library, but a different kind of quiet; surrounding, encompassing, the kind that filled in the gap left by unspoken words.

A good quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! feel free to talk to me on [twitter!!](https://twitter.com/hqtens)


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